


This Game

by Sakushinashou



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Sexual Tension, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 09:46:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5243699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakushinashou/pseuds/Sakushinashou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hated it. God, did she <i>hate. This. Game</i> of theirs. It was infuriating, intoxicating, suffocating. She hated it.</p>
<p>But she loved it even more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Game

**Author's Note:**

> Pro tip on venting sexual frustration: write your favorite characters suffering right along with you.
> 
> Very rambly story made up of too many run-on sentences and ellipses to count. Left it that way because I felt it fit the stream of consciousness narrative—or at least that's what I'm going with. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Takes place after the four-year time skip.**

She hated it. _God_ , did she hate it. It was infuriating, intoxicating, suffocating. She hated it.

But she loved it even more.

Their relationship had never developed normally. It hadn’t started that way, so why start now, she supposed. But _God_.

Yes, they were never that physical, so it was a strange and new step into the pool of their very unique romance.  She should have seen it coming, really. They didn’t kiss cheeks or hold hands or any of that. What they did do was talk. Always, endlessly, about anything. It made sense that bonding would start happening there.

And she hated it, because it happened so slow, so tentatively. It was an unspoken game to never address but always push. How close could Inuyasha sit, how much of his arm and shoulder could Kagome press into. Ah, no stuttering now, fight down that blush. What were we talking about again? Oh yes, the stars. Or was it the twins. Or Shippo. Or that village over with the demon problem.

Keep talking, don’t pay attention to the hand trailing fingers up and down your arm. Fingertips lengthening careful strokes until the digits caressed the back of his neck, digging gently into his hair. Was that a gasp? When was the last time he said something? What were they talking about again?

Right, the weather. It was autumn now, getting colder and—oh, he decided to lay down, and oh-so-casually take Kagome with him. He was still talking, chatting mindlessly, so that made it okay. He wasn’t looking in her eyes when she felt the feather-light touch of his claws trail up her back, to her shoulder, payback for her earlier actions. So she had to keep playing along because he hadn’t broken the rules yet either.

Neither of them knew when their legs tangled, notching together, moving and adjusting for the other in unspoken consensus. And then the arm around her waist and suddenly she was flush too him, his head tucked under her chin, breath tickling her neck as he asked…what had he asked her again? Oh God, did she hate this game. But she loved it even more.

Deep breath, swallow down that shiver. But she couldn’t control the goose bumps that prickled along her spine when she found his fingers in her hair, powerless against the sensation of claws in gentle exploration behind her head. Oh, she had asked that ‘what’ aloud. She could feel the smirk against her neck—God, the feel of his lips, even the press of his fangs—oh no, he repeated the question. That was strike one for her.

Right, shoes, for the cold weather, did she know how to make shoes in this era. Did she? If she did, the process was lost somewhere in the scalding heat of his body against hers, radiating through clothes in a way she didn’t think was possible. God, was he a living _furnace_? But, shoes, yes, deflect the question, he didn’t wear shoes, how could he help her even if she didn’t? Good, she was somehow able to get the thought out just in time to—ohhhh _no_.

It was too sudden, the movement of his hand from being tangled in her hair to pressing against the back of her neck, arching her throat into his lips for a nerve-numbing kiss. But she had managed the question before the whine left her lips at the sensation, God. Was he smiling again?

Not for long, the ball was in his court now.  Can’t really talk properly when your mouth is latched onto someone’s neck. And what relief and pain in one when he pulled back from her to speak. God she hated this game. God did she love it.

When had her arms hooked under his? When had her hands secured fistfuls of red fabric on the backs of his shoulders, pulling herself closer into his heat, anticipating its scald? But Inuyasha pulled out from under her chin to speak and Kagome took advantage. Readjusting herself, she pulled impossibly closer against him, forcing his knee to hike higher between hers. Oh, his breath had hitched. Kagome _felt_ it. Their faces were perfectly aligned now. Their noses were touching and they were all but kissing, his breath warm against her lips.

Kagome smiled because now he was floundering in the game and _God_ did she want him to lose so badly, before she did—before nothing could stop her from pressing his shoulders into to the dirt, pinning him beneath her as she straddled his chest and devoured him like a lioness with her prey.

His lips began to move, she could _feel_ them against hers. She needed one more nail in his coffin, so she darted unfocused eyes, snapping to attention on his own. The instinct in him won, as it always did. Their eyes locked, and oh what a double bladed sword.

Eyes like gold, all but molten in his sockets, flickering from one eye to the other. The changing focus gave the illusion of movement, two pools she fell into, and if his silence was any indication, he wasn’t fairing any better.

He swallowed and she could feel it. The faintest, briefest, half-pretend touch of his lips as they pressed together, the movement of his jaw as it flexed, the small swell of his Adam’s apple as it bobbed once in his throat. Even his muscles, through his clothes, the lurch in his chest, pressed tight against hers and _God_ did she _hate_. _This_. _Game_.

He did manage to speak, but she wasn’t sure it was an answer. It might have just been her name, but she was distracted by the feel of his lips against hers, not a kiss, no, not yet, but _God_ did she hate this game and _God_ did she love to lose it. And just as she decided she would lose, just as she lifted her head the slightest amount, twisted her face to fit into his, she just about did. Just about. All but the last pucker needed to claim his kiss, all but the deciding movement needed to lock them together.

She breathed out through her nose, breathe hot against their touching lips. God did she hate this game. But God did she love winning it more.

And it was euphoria when his arms squeezed the air out of her, crushing his lips against her, all heat and skin and softness, creating a bubbling buzz in the back of her head, elation like nothing else, dizzying.

And then when they finally break, his eye’s flame melting hers to water, a smile playing on her bruised lips and a whispered gloat.

“I win again.”


End file.
